Cod

Today we have been hanging out with my sister and her extended family, as well as my parents, in their Airbnb rental, which happens to be just a few blocks away. With Gothenburg filling up with people attending the Way Out West music festival, the tram was beyond crowded, but at least Eddie and I made it down to the gym for 5k of high-intensity rowing – and also to Vasque to pick up my freshly pressed dress shirts, taking me one step closer to boarding the Queen Mary 2.

Otherwise, I started the day with 11k of running in Skatås with Anna, which felt great, and ended it with pan-seared cod loin with sweet potato purée and basil oil, so life in Kålltorp is as rough as ever

Queen Mary 2

Built in Saint-Nazaire by Chantiers de l'Atlantique, the Queen Mary 2 first set sail in 2003 and remains the only active, purpose-built ocean liner in service. Despite her many years at sea, I have only seen her on two occasions: once in Stavanger in 2013 and again in Dubai a few years later.

At the time of her launch, she was the world’s longest passenger ship, measuring an impressive 345 metres, a title since overtaken by Royal Caribbean’s “Icon”-class ships. With her deep draft and reinforced hull, she is uniquely equipped to handle the rigours of the North Atlantic. In a typical year, the Queen Mary 2 completes between 20 and 25 transatlantic crossings, covering the 3,000 nautical miles between Southampton and New York in seven days.

Between crossings, she often embarks on shorter excursions to the Mediterranean, the Caribbean, or the Norwegian fjords. Having just returned from eight such days in Norway, with English-French celebrity chef Michel Roux aboard, she will call in Hamburg on the 25th of August. That is where my dad and I will board at lunchtime, joining her for the first leg of her westward journey. We will then spend two nights on board before disembarking in Southampton.

Skeppsholmen

After a good night’s sleep at Sjöfartshotellet, William and I woke up to grey skies but ready to hit the quays of Stockholm. Running in my super-cushioned Asics Novablast 5, I could barely tell that I ran 91 kilometres only a few days ago.

Stopping to take photos, I was reminded of my many past Stockholm morning runs, including when Anna and I first got together in 2010. After a fulfilling hotel breakfast we are now off to Chess Summer Camp near Zinkensdamm!

Riksdagen

Once in Stockholm, William and I walked past Riksdagen (the Swedish parliament) on Helgeandsholmen and noticed that they were offering free guided tours. We both felt this was something we would like to do, so we pencilled it in for the afternoon – after first checking in to our hotel and having lunch at Tre Indier on Söder.

As for the tour, it certainly did not disappoint. That said, having a PhD in political science does make you feel a bit silly when you cannot immediately answer all the questions posed by the guide. Regardless, William’s enthusiasm was unmistakable and easily made my day. Afterwards, we returned to Sjöfartshotellet for rooftop mocktails overlooking Stockholms ström.

Later in the evening, I also checked out the hotel gym for some gentle strength training. With every ultra, it feels like my body is getting better and better at recovery, so with a bit of luck, I hope to go for a morning run already tomorrow. 

Hypoglycemia and water meadows

All night, the rain hammered against the windows, but by the time William and I left Gothenburg at 6 am, the sky had cleared, and, with a bit of luck, it will stay sunny throughout our visit to the capital. Now aboard SJ high-speed service 422, William is reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows while I am booking train tickets to Halmstad for the first autumn weeks.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with ChatGPT about what went wrong during Halland Ultra-Beach, and, going through the race step by step, it became clear that the cause of my failure was simply hypoglycemia as I failed to recognise how many hours I had gone without food. In retrospect, it is all slightly embarrassing, as I knew perfectly well how important fuelling is. During the first 40 kilometres of the race, I managed to maintain a steady caloric intake, but as I was dragged down by the many water meadows around Stranninge, I gradually lost track of how much time I was spending out on the course relative to how little I was eating.

In the words of ChatGPT:

This prolonged period of intense exertion without replenishment likely led to severe depletion of glycogen stores and hypoglycemia. Typical symptoms – such as dizziness, coldness, and mental fog – emerged, indicating systemic energy failure. Attempts to ingest a Maurten energy gel at that stage proved unsuccessful due to nausea, which often results from delayed fuelling and gastrointestinal shutdown.

In combination with wet and slippery conditions, the growing sense of disorientation and loss of core temperature signalled a broader physiological collapse. Continuing into the night across exposed coastal rocks in such a state would have posed significant risks. From a safety perspective, the decision to stop was not only reasonable but prudent.

Frutti di Mare

Ten hours of solid sleep later, I woke up to the first work week of the autumn semester, feeling surprisingly refreshed and ready to finally get to the bottom of what has been holding up the author publishing agreement with Taylor & Francis for my new co-authored article.

Meanwhile, William has fully taken over the living room for his big Lego sorting and selling project, and Eddie has been to the gym for the first time since turning 13 and being allowed to go there on his own.

Tomorrow morning, William and I will take the train to Stockholm where he will be playing chess while I hope to make some progress with my writing. For tonight, however, I have made (what was supposed to be a celebratory) Risotto ai Frutti di Mare to go with the house Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand as we wait for the storm “Floris” to make landfall – and hopefully not disrupt our travel plans.

One Year Later, One River Too Many

One year after being forced to DNF due to lost eyesight 67 kilometres into the 100k edition of Halland Ultra-Beach, I took the train down to Åskloster to run my first ever 100-mile race yesterday morning. Arriving a couple of hours before the start, I had plenty of time to get to know the other runners and to install the satellite tracker on my running vest.

At 10 a.m. sharp, Robert sent us all off with a playful “Allé, allé, allé". Feeling strong after having run only 15 kilometres over the previous week, I enjoyed expansive views of the sea from atop the Gamla Varberg nature reserve, before settling for a 6 min/km pace along the bike paths into Varberg, where a latte and a focaccia were already waiting for me at Espresso House.

Continuing south past Träslövsläge, I stopped for a scoop of sea salted caramel (of course) from Lejonet & Björnen, still confident that I would be able to finish in under 24 hours. Soon enough, however, the pace slowed considerably as the course required fording through knee-deep water. Fortunately, I was still running in a group, and it was daylight, but I began to get a sense of what awaited me later in the night.

After 60 kilometres, I reached the first aid station in Olofsbo, where I was served a delicious burger and an alcohol-free beer. With fresh dry socks, my spirits were quickly restored. Chatting and jogging with a fellow runner who was doing the full 200-mile (sic!) race from Gothenburg to Båstad, night fell - but not before I encountered a beautiful white horse and, later, all the people partying in Falkenberg.

Once on the beach in Skrea, I could feel my energy levels starting to dip. With not a single place open, I struggled to get the Maurten gel down. Before long, I was alone in the dark, climbing cliffs with increasing instability and getting colder for every river mouth that I had to ford. Unlike last year, when I had the company of Emma, I was alone when crossing Suseån, and doubts began to creep in about the feasibility of the whole enterprise. If I were to avoid fording Fylleån further south, the total distance would exceed 170 kilometres, and with my pace grinding down to 15–20 min/km, there was not much time to spare.

At the 90-kilometre mark, I made the difficult decision to DNF, as it no longer felt safe to continue onto the cliffs of Steningekusten. Badly burnt from nettles and jellyfish, and cold to the bone, other factors also weighed in as I messaged the race organisers to say that I wished to quit.

However, rather than being whisked away in a luxurious electric car like on Fjällmaraton in 2022, I found myself stranded on the asphalt at a bus stop for hours, as the first bus would not depart until 7 a.m. I tried hitchhiking, but all the cars drove past — until finally, at 05:45, a hero stopped and drove me to the railway station in Falkenberg. A quick ride on the Öresund train through the new tunnel in Varberg later, I was back at the railway station in Gothenburg, where Anna and Eddie met me for coffee. Once again, I had overestimated my ability. Still, I would not want to have those 91 kilometres and 17 hours undone.